


Regrets

by firedup



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: I'm assuming A LOT here, possibly BfA spoilers...?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-05-15 15:11:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14792867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firedup/pseuds/firedup
Summary: So I've officially jumped on the fireship. This was written in a bout of feels, in the AO3 editor, in one go, and may therefore contain typos. And feels. Ye've been warned.





	Regrets

"Vol'jin."

 

Tyrathan stepped forward, intent on, no--- _desperate_ to talk to the spirit of his old friend before it could vanish and afraid it would do so before he could get the words out that had been stuck in his throat for so long. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Go'el and Talanji step back respectfully, but he only really had eyes for the Darkspear's shimmering apparition. 

 

Vol'jin looked much as he remembered him, except for one thing more- the black- and- white facepaint; and one thing that was missing: the tip of his right tusk. The amber eyes were just the same, the way they widened when the spirit caught sight of him: just the same. Tyrathan smiled, wryly, and was rewarded with a flash of sharp teeth as Vol'jin's lips drew back into a smile of his own. 

 

It hurt. 

 

The archer's eyes dropped to the floor, then slid closed. He just couldn't look at him and see the disappointment erase the smile. 

 

"I'm so sorry for failing you.". Because failed, he had. Failed to be there with the promised arrow. Failed to protect the troll from the blow that slew him on the Broken Shore, although _he'd been fighting with the Alliance forces._ Failed to get to him in time to say goodbye, and failed to get the one, because he never even knew which demon, out of the millions forming the Burning Legion, had gotten Vol'jin. Oh, he had killed his fair share of them, and then some, but this one of his many failures nagged at him, especially. It hounded him in every silent moment. And it choked him as he spoke, the words coming out a bare whisper. 

 

_"Ya didn't."_ A touch on his shoulder, not the pressure of something solid but more the touch of soul against soul, like something he'd only felt once before, and his eyes flew open to see the spirit of Vol'jin reaching out to him, the smile dimmed but still there, meshed with pain- for him?- and he opened his mouth to say something more, to _tell him,_ but something was wrong, Vol'jin was fading, retreating from him as if pulled and Tyrathan's hand shot out in a fruitless attempt to grab the troll's arm, but all he felt was empty air, Vol'jin's spirit fingertips brushing his---- he was gone. 

 

A long breath shuddered out of the archer's chest as his hand slowly dropped back to his side. Nothing moved; no one spoke. For a long time, he was alone. 

 

Then came a rustle of clothing behind him, feet brushing the stone of the temple floor. 

 

"Khort.". Go'el's voice was low, warm even. Tyrathan nodded, eyes still closed, drew a breath, straightened, turned around. "Let's go."

 

As he left the temple behind his two unlikely allies, he softly brushed his thumb over the tips of his fingers. They were still tingling. 


End file.
